


Warmth

by Rapterkitten



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Death, Gen, I don't even know what to tag this as, Kind of Poetic?, Poetic, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapterkitten/pseuds/Rapterkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You would expect Death to be cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

You would expect death to be cold.

Something on the brink of silence, kind of like in the middle of a blizzard and you're walking down the side of the road.

There's silence, and yet there's so much noise.

You can hear the wind blowing past you, and you can almost hear the cold of the snow as it hits you and hits the road and buildings, and the clouds swirling up in the sky.

You expect Death to be a lumbering creature that takes hold of you by the neck and drags you away slowly.

But really, Death was something so much better than that.

Death was nearly as warm as a summer evening.

Death was loud. It laughed and told stories, joked and teased and whispered secrets.

Death was not a lumbering creature, but a boy who looked like he was 16.

A boy with soft black hair. Pale, but warm skin. Bright orange eyes, with long lashes. Almost like a girl.

Death had a heart and organs, and a mind. A mind that sometimes told him to hate himself for three white stripes in his hair that set off his symmetry.

Death hated himself. Wanted not to drag petty humans away by the neck, but himself.

But Death also used his mind to form a love for some people. He liked a girl with blonde hair and green eyes, who reminded him of the spring. A boy with blue hair that stood up in spikes. Me and a girl with blue eyes and blonde hair. A girl with hair darker than night. And, finally, a boy with white hair that reminded him of snow. It was as soft as it, too, I think.

So, I guess, in a way Death was cold. But only with himself. He was warm to the people around him, and that was what mattered most, right?

Because, if so.

Then Death is warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Worked on this while half asleep at 11:22 pm. Amazing.


End file.
